Asphalt Dogs
by Sage1111
Summary: Demotion, a suicide, a hint, a suspicious setting, not all that it seems, and a young man offering his help. Two people, one moment in time, a million realizations, and a connected history not without its reasoning. There's a case on the move, speeding at 200mph and Mello is hot on its tail, Matt backing him up in shot gun.
1. To hire a hit not to hit you

"-suicide."

"What? _No, no, that makes no sense_!"

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but that is the only explanation, and-"

"No, no, that can't be it, he played with gun-"

"Ma'am, I know you are shocked, but nothing will change the truth, it was a suicide... you have my condolences, truly."

"No..."

"Ma'am?"

"No! No, he wouldn't do such a thing, you're lying!"

"Don't make me have to charge you with assault, be reasonable!"

"Let me go! M-my uncle was an honest man, and a happy one! He would never have done something like that! He played with gun's, he didn't shoot people! Let alone himself!"

"Ma'am,"

"No, you're all wrong..."

* * *

Folders slapped onto table, blue eyes glared at brown, a sharp voice ringing through the small office shortly.

"What do you mean? I completed the case!"

"Yes, Mello, but your methods were... unfavorable."

Said blond snorted in response to that simple explanation; sure, he had gone far, but without those methods, the case would have gone downhill and taken a lot longer to solve, or; god forbid, have ended up in bloodshed.

He'd done right.

And this is what he got, and as he slammed the building door behind himself, he believed that nothing would ever brighten his day again.

Back to gopher boy, he couldn't believe it. Clenched fists and gritted teeth, he couldn't snap himself out of anger. He'd done it this time, last warning, and now he had to work himself all the way back up again. It was unfair. They knew how resourceful he was on the field; while the other top detectives didn't leave their offices for cases, he actually did, and he took the initiative, and he solved them.

He was the brains _and_ the operation, and they knew it. And they knew that they needed him. And yet they... dropped him. He wanted to scream, punch the nearby brick wall that he instead only huffed at as he continued walking.

there were too many people, he couldn't cause a scene.

Not this close to headquarters anyways.

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...fuck!"

* * *

Apparently causing a scene in a gym wasn't a good idea either; a single kick and after all those punches, the punching bag hit the ceiling, and in that, a light.

Fuck.

600 dollars, bloody scammers, they shouldn't have left a light there in the first place, they had it coming, don't charge him, who was now making a LOT less money...

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

He got several glares for punching the pedestrian walkway sign, and felt his face heat up as the mingling bystanders whispered notes of his sudden outburst to each other.

Couldn't they see that he was having the worst day in his life? It's not his fault he had anger issue's, he just did, and it wasn't his fault, either, that the superintendent thought he'd gone too far. Nothing was his fault, unless he'd directly hurt anybody, and he'd never done that.

He just wanted to disappear, a feeling he hadn't experienced since high school, before he'd taken up being a bully- but the bullies in the adult world were the criminal, and he wouldn't step into that path. Not far anyway.

He had.

Laughable, was the fact that they put him down in his current job, when they would be absolutely screwed if he decided to be a criminal, which he had the will to do so. But he simply didn't care for it. He'd been there, and while it was no different from detective work, per se, it... was different. It wasn't familiar.

He was kidding himself. With what? A lot.

* * *

People in this world want two things; success, or love. It was one or the other, with no exceptions. How they accomplished those things were up to them, whether they used one or the other or neither. It was all in their control.

Usually they wanted those two things hand in hand, and then, as always, their life lesson comes when they realize that that isn't possible. Then they either give up, or peruse, and those are the two kinds of people that people are divided into.

Mello always told himself he wanted both, and could do it, determination a wide definition of why. He knew he was wrong, but that didn't mean a thing.

He could still do it. Until he turned sixteen and was forced to pick, or, admit that he had picked. That's when he ran, ran, ran, and when he realized that he was giving up, he turned that run away, into a 'run to.'

But, it always seems like he's running away, even so, not running to. Unsaid ideals and glances tell him that.

It's a lot, and nothing in essence, but this was his life, and in that, he could do as he liked, despite his apparent paradigm. So he wouldn't give up, because, success, or not, he wasn't the type to give up; not that he had any clue how to do that either at this point in his life.

* * *

Vodka. Vodka was an outlet, an outlet that Mello had learned when he was very, very young.

Drink it down, take a breath, grasp the next, gulp it down, inhale, exhale, next. Repeat.

The trick was to breathe, and then vomit as soon as needed, and then repeat. Not healthy, and it got one utterly and totally wasted. Which was the point.

Two hours in, of course Mello was wasted to high hell, low earth, and bloody heav'n. Wasted like a sopped rag in a trash can, skin as pale as death(not that he wasn't pale already) and fingers a lil' too cool to the touch.

Perhaps from the cider he was then nursing, and the ice in it, or perhaps from the lack of circulation.

He felt warm though. He also felt numb. Ah, familiar, familiar, and glorious vodka; his genetics aided him well- though when he stepped outside, he didn't wonder why three people(so far) had asked if he was alright.

He knew it wasn't just because he was piss drunk. Skinny jeans and a tank top in minus fifteen degrees on a snowy day mid-week was a cause for alarm, drunken appearance only adding to the cause-for-pause.

He didn't feel cold. He was a fuckin' Russian, kids like him played in the snow naked back in the day. Naked, I tell you. Gotta get used to that shit.

Bouncer rolled his eyes, Mello snorted, not a goosebump on his skin, how could nobody believe him... maybe, because he was drunk. Right.

Though that wasn't the bouncer from before. Scratch that, this isn't the bar from before. Mello was staring glaze-eyed at the bright pink lighted sign, frown on his lips, far from sober. If you asked him anyways.

Hmmm. If you asked anybody else, as well.

"Id-ts jus' no't, I din't cum ou' there di' I?"

"No, we've walked a block now."

Wat?

What?

Not a surprise was the fact that some mysterious stranger had rescued him from his clothing-less escapade in the cold. Not that he needed rescue. He was a fuckin' Russian. No snowy night would kill him.

"So you've said..."

"Shu' up."

It wasn't a pedo, hopefully. Mello did look young... two years ago.

He wasn't bothered by his age, he just knew what his mother looked like at thirty- ugh. Don't get him started on his father.

Fuckkkk.

Red hair...

Or was that the lighting? Mello felt like he was going to pass out, and the stranger was nearly taking all of his weight, all 114 pounds of it...he didn't like 114 pounds, apparently. Apparently, his mouth wouldn't stop running itself out of business, or what should have been out of business.

This, was why he didn't keep company when drunk. Also...was this guy not cold? He'd given Mello his jacket, which Mello wasn't even really using anyways...

The chirp-chirp of a car being unlocked sounded, and Mello shivered, stood still beside headlights.

"Here, get in."

Why?

No answer.

Did he even say it?

He was wasted...?

"Don't puke in my car, okay? What's your address.?"

Mello stared, not at all straight- in his seat. He was straight, in his seat. No, He wasn't straight in his seat, he was side ways, as the man tried to work the seatbelt over Mello's shoulders. To little success apparently, as he quickly gave up and instead shut the door on Mello, getting in on the other side within a few seconds.

Mello stared, the red haired and stripe-shirted cretin starting up his fancy car.

Bet he was rich.

Bet he lived in a mansion.

Mello was so great...and he lived in a hovel.

"Address?"

Mello stared, arm barely holding him in his seat. His vision was swirling, he felt vaguely sick. He could hold it back though. It was in his genetics.

"I get it, you have some drunks for family. Are you going to give me your address or not?" The statement wasn't without a chuckle, and Mello didn't know why. The words irked him, he knew that.

Irked him so badly, so terribly, why was he born in a world?

"Okay, you can crash at my place... lord knows I can't leave you outside."

* * *

Mello right away knew the consequences. He recognized the symptoms promptly. He knew the aches and pains. He knew the burn. He knew the pressure. He knew the cold sticky and absolutely lovely smell of his underarms.

Vodka.

Does wonders.

Especially in the morning.

Then it tastes like shit, too.

But, even sleepy, he was never one to black out, and he remembered red hair, so wasn't surprised by the unfamiliar ceiling above him.

Stucco and plaster, a little leaky here and there, with that old glitter they put on ceilings in the eighties. The walls were a tacky bright green, painted over stucco as well, telling Mello that someone just didn't care for the looks of their home.

It seemed that he was in a spare bedroom; a single bed, dresser, mirror, and lamp the only belongings; Mello believed that you'd have to be insane to have this as your room.

And indeed, upon waddling over to the ajar door and opening it, squeaky hinges wringing his ears, he saw the absolute catastrophe that the adjacent room was.

Mello didn't even want to look at that for more than a second; and what was up with the black paint in the hallway?

Even the floorboards were painted... bathroom looked normal, just plain, front door was at the end of the hall, he noted as he stepped up to the welcome mat, the clanking of dishes registering in his ears as his gaze reached the living room, what was the kitchen probably resting just over the corner.

Indeed, Mello noted as he rested his weight against the wall, gazing at the plain white countertops and cupboards, dirty light up above and the crooked table resting in the middle. The main attraction of the room, though, stood front and center as being Mello's 'rescuer.'

Red hair, Mello remembered that well, and the striped shirt, seemingly not changed since the night before. What was new was the baggy jeans and tattered giraffe print socks, plus what looked to be goggles tied up in the hair. Scraggly hair, skinny body, but not without its weight. The man looked to be heavier than Mello, at least, not chubby, but...

Ugh. He was a tad tired.

The man was doing dishes, though what caught Mello's eye was the pot of coffee and open cupboard of cups off to the side.

He tried to take the situation in stride, and walked up, tiptoeing a little until he pulled out a cup- it was white with a rubber ducky on it, oddly. The noise of porcelain against wood startled the redhead though, and before Mello knew it he was regretting trying to act 'cool.'

He bent down immediately to help the other man pick up the broken glass of the plate he'd dropped. He was on his knee's and setting the last piece in his hand when the other man sat up to, smiling awkwardly at Mello, and their eyes meeting periodically.

"Hi-"

-Sleep well?"

Mello's lips twisted, and the redhead's turned his into an unsure frown, one that soon quirked into a smile at the incredulity of the awkward situation- at least Mello assumed.

He held out a hand, "I'm Matt." he said, and Mello paused, frowning, before lowering his eyes to his glass holding hands, before looking back at 'Matt.' In the response the other man flushed. Actually flushed. Jumpy and awkward? Huh.

"Ok sorry, I- I'll just throw this out." Mello followed Matt's lead as he threw out the remaining glass, and soon enough, in seconds, really, Mello was staring on as the presumed geek prattled on what was probably supposed to be an apology- or was it a scolding? Yeah, this guy was awkward.

"I'm sorry, you startled me, you should have just said something. I was in my zone there, didn't think you'd be up this early, you were up late last night, and drunk... sorry, I brought you here because you wouldn't give me your address, at least you didn't puke in my car... um, hi."

Mello just blinked at the young man for a moment, silently telling him just how awkward he was being, before he uttered a quiet "right..." drawing out the word. A beat passed, and Mello shook his head faintly, going back to what he'd been doing beforehand. Pouring coffee.

"Um, do you need a ride home?"

Mello supposed that he'd need to break the ice and make this less awkward. He'd graduated as a detective at 17, what good was that if he couldn't make this random stranger not feel awkward? And besides, he saved Mello from freezing to death, the least he could do it be courteous to this socially awkward -clearly-not-a-morning-person and endearingly freckled mess.

Mello smirked into his cup as he poured the last inch of liquid into his cup. "Not right away, unless you want to get rid of me so quickly." Mello smiled at him then, one of those friendly and open smiles.

It was practiced.

Matt seemed even more awkward.

Did Mello look that bad?

"I- no, you can stay as long as you like, I don't really care... you can use my shower if you need, too."

Mello nodded, slurping his coffee and leaning back against the counter, facing Matt only slightly. "Thanks, if you don't mind, I have to be somewhere at...mm, what time is it?"

Matt pointed above Mello in response, and upon tilting his head up, he found the time to be...rather early, 8:38.

Mello had to be at the office at 10:00...

"Where abouts in town are we?"

"Bridge Road, near the Plasma center."

"Damn." Half an hour drive from home, Mello kind of needed a new change of clothes too, he wouldn't make it in time...

Best he could do was chug his coffee and get in the shower, perhaps borrow Matt's boxers? Hmm. Yeah, he didn't have much choice, needed a shirt too.

"I'm sorry to ask, but can I borrow some boxers and a shirt? There's not enough time for me to get home and to work by ten, and could you drive me too?" Mello made sure the importance of this all leaked into his words, very, very, clearly. Matt didn't even pause in a nod.

"Yeah, sure, its no bother."

"Kay, thanks." Mello chugged his coffee despite the heat, clunked the cup onto the counter, and turned towards the bathroom.

He could make it up to the stranger later, for now he had business to attend to.

* * *

When Mello stepped out of the shower, he found that Matt had slipped a tightly fitting striped shirt and some Mario themed boxers(of all things) onto the bathroom counter. He'd stared, admittedly. The guy really was a geek.

And when Mello stepped out of the bathroom, and into the living room, Matt was playing video games on his tacky brown floral couch, back turned to Mello; Mello, who then, noting that he had an hour still, sat down beside the hunched over redhead.

Matt ignored him, and Mello stared. Then Matt's eyes flitted to Mello for just a second.

"Do you need that ride?"

This guy seemed to be a social enigma.

"No, half an hour still."

"Okay."

"Hm." Mello leaned back on the armrest, staring then at the screen that Matt was so intently blowing up at that moment. Then he shot a zombie in the head.

"Do you need an Advil?"

"Nah." Mello congratulated Matt on the offer in his head, though, it was appreciated, really. But he didn't need it, the bit of a headache he'd had was gone, and he wouldn't be feeling sick anytime soon.

Matt was shooting a hoard of zombies that had surrounded him, turning in every which direction and making a blur of the screen as he expertly eradicated the hoard. Mello didn't much like games, so while it was entertaining for a few moments, he quickly grew bored, turning his attention elsewhere.

The apartment was a little messy, but less cluttered than just unkempt. It looked as if, by the full trash bin, that Matt had just picked up a bunch of garbage, actually. Probably because he had a visitor. Mello liked how he probably didn't care about Mello seeing the mess, but was just forcing himself to be hospitable. His questions and offers so far attested to that fact, and it was likely that Matt didn't mind the company, but just didn't think catering after a guest was necessary.

Those deductions seemed to fit the persona that Mello'd seen so far.

"So why were you so drunk on hump day?"

Mello's gaze turned back to Matt, who still wasn't looking at Mello and instead at the screen. His words took a second to catch up to Mello.

"Hump day?" He spoke with incredulity, and Matt shrugged.

"Yeah, Wednesday, the hump of the week. Usually, people have work the next day- or did you get fired...?"

"I-"

"No, you said you had to be somewhere at 10, so it's either relationship trouble or you got demoted."

Mello smiled. Apparently gamer boy here liked to deduce things, similar to a habit Mello had as a child.

"The latter." He offered, and Matt nodded, pausing his game and looking at Mello over his shoulder. His eyes were very blue, and because of that Mello figured that his hair was artificially red.

Odd for a socially awkward gamer geek to bother with hair dye.

"So, what happened?"

Mello paused in consideration for just a moment, deciding whether he should divulge his work life. He figured there was no harm. "I went a little too far on a case -not for the first time mind you- and the boss didn't like it."

Matt un-paused his game with a dip of his head, acknowledging the situation as he clicked at the controller. A few beats passed, before he spoke up again.

"So what're you going to do about it?"

"Something, just don't know what."

"Well, hey, at least you're not givin' up. Usually people do when they flunk it like that, though they usually flunk it because of a relationship..."

Mello smiled. He actually smiled, quite honestly, and Matt got a funny looking expression on his face as he looked at Mello out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay, what's that look for. You're so stoic, and now your grinning like I just said a great joke?" Mello could only chuckle in response, shaking his head a little to dismiss the notion. Matt was still staring at his screen, but apparently had no trouble watching Mello's face too, and Mello liked his phrasing.

Mello kinda liked this guy.

"By the way, you look strange in my shirt," Matt noted then, and Mello had to agree. It was tight, like he usually wore his clothes, but the stripes? Nah, not for him. They looked good on Matt.

"I know, it's quite terrible really, I have to go to work in this."

Matt seemed to have gotten to a save point in his game, and after clicking several buttons, the screen went black, before he turned to sit facing Mello, leaning against the other armrest similarly to how Mello was.

"It's not that bad, stripes just look gaudy. So what are you gonna do about the demotion? Where do you work?"

"Detective agency over by Clarency, the one with the red flag on the door."

"Oh, right, that one... no, I have no idea where that is."

"Hm, yeah, I guess you wouldn't." Mello quirked a lip.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Matt feigned offense, and Mello shrugged, smirking mirthfully.

"Nothing, Mattie boy, though I don't suppose you have any grand ideas for me?"

"I... dunno really, I had a friend when I was younger that was a detective, though. He always complained about cases never being solved properly."

Mello knew straight away the implication that Matt was making, the unspoken question.

"I'd get in trouble poking around in closed cases at this point. They demoted me not because I was underperforming, but because I went too far. Budding into an old case, successful or not, would just prove their point."

Matt lowered his eyes, scratching his head. "Alright, um... so work behind the scenes? Surely you have friends at work, you could point them in the right directions, and eventually it would be noticed that it was you, but without the repercussions."

Mello smiled, a small one, one that was amused and not without interest but knowing it was a bit futile.

"That'd be tricky, and take just as long as it would for me to get up again from gopher boy. Though-" Mello leaned forwards, elbows on knees. "Why are you trying to help? You've done plenty, letting me stay here the night and steal your coffee and all."

It was Matt's turn to shrug, "I dunno." He said, and the conversation took on a mildly awkward lull.

 _While Mello didn't mind at all, it was questionable, the interest. Maybe it was just a Matt thing to do, but Mello'd thought that Matt was the type not to care, to do what was obligatory of him and nothing more._

"Do you wanna play Left 4 Dead with me?"

"You on a zombie kick?" Mello nodded to the stack of disks on the floor.

"Yeah, its marathon a category week." Matt smiled, slapping his goggles over his eyes as he hopped off the couch to change the PS4 disk.

Matt had taken the lack of a 'no' as a 'yes.'

* * *

Matt's words continued to bother Mello all day.

Do cases anyways. Be persistent, like Mello is anyways. Indeed, it was the only(effective) way, even though the chance that he would get in trouble was very, very high.

He didn't mind risking his whole job in its entirety at that point, though. Like he'd notioned before; he could do anything he wanted to, as it was.

He didn't mind criminals, either, and he may have been raised for the justice system, but he was smart.

Despite all misgivings, despite his doubts, despite the fact hat he could easily get in trouble, he sneaked into his coworker's computer at the end of the day, when the man was out on his coffee break. Mello acted as if he was just doing some clean-up, and no one but the chief was suspicious.

He knew what Mello's MO was. But Mello could cover his tracks, online and offline, computer and real life.

Mello wouldn't do anything risky yet, but he already knew that being gopher boy for even a month was going to bore him to high hell, low earth, and all of the above and below. He was just going to look.

Just a look.

* * *

Lady Laughlin, a sales worker and the only known relative of Gary Pescuili, the victim of a closed case from 2008, two years ago. It was supposedly solved, but tricky in the fact that his niece protested -protests to this day, actually- that he would commit suicide.

She said it had to have been murder, or at the least, an accident. Mello recalled the case easily, in fact, and he remembered how full of it the news was when it came to this little thing. But, the thing was, Mello knew, was that being family, Lady was prone to being delusional when it came to her only kin.

So he dropped that case without a thought, going on to look at others for any clue of some other explanation. That is, until he had an idea. Or rather, a memory came to mind, followed by a fact.

"To hire a hit not hit you..."

He cringed, closing his eyes and taking a breath.

There's always more to the story, and in his case it had been the same. Only, everyone had thought otherwise.

Gary was a bit of a ghetto rat, raised and grown, and so was his niece, her having grown up alongside him as well. There was the kinship, the fact that lady was bound to want him not to have committed suicide, but also there was the fact that she did know him, and appeared by all accounts, smart, and with the background...

To hire a hit man not to hit you.

And so Mello looked up all the interviews he could, grasping at this, and he watched, as over time she shut up, accepting the fact that it was suicide. Or was it? Did she know something else?

That stutter.

That pause.

That nod.

That shake of the head, that word unsaid. Mello watched video's until the early morning light, and by then, he was bursting with adrenalin.

To hire a hit man not to hit you, and then...

But there were holes in it. So Mello put it away.

Until he knocked on Matt's door a week later, cluing in about a fact in the case(a clue) and recalling the redhead's words when he had dropped Mello off a week ago.

* * *

"Hey," Mello turned to look at Matt, hand still on the building's door, red flag blowing in the wind, almost matching the color of Matt's Camaro that he seemed all so proud of.

"Hm?"

Matt ducked his head briefly, as if embarrassed, before meeting Mello's eyes again from across the sidewalk where he sat in his Camaro. "If you find anything that could help you get your job back, then I'd be more than willing to check it out with you."

Mello smiled, nodding, and stepped inside the building. He'd not thought too much on Matt's offer, The guy was just a geek living in a shitty bachelor pad, and Mello doubted that he could help all that much.

* * *

Yet here he was, albeit still doubtful.


	2. No Man's land

Echoing of footsteps, fast paced, sounds through the nearly empty alleyway, two children's breath puffing, ice cold air in their lungs as they speed down the streets. One turn, almost slip, almost caught, and they were faced with no choice but to run straight into the busy highway of main LA, vehicles screeching around them in an effort to avoid any unfortunate accidents.

Bag in his right hand, the boy grabbed the girl's hand with his left, pulling her into a small crevice between two buildings off to the side, shouts of frustration heard from behind them as they slipped into the darkness together.

Moments later, the duo was sat, breathing heavily, faces half hidden by shadow and half lightened by a window, smiling at each other.

The boy, dressed formally in a silk shirt, dress shoes, pants and tie, pulled a lump of bread from the bag and handed it to the girl. The girl of which was dressed the exact opposite, sporting torn and stained pajama flannels, dirt-stained cheeks, and ratty pigtails of ginger hair.

She smiled too as she took the offered meal, grin still on her face, despite everything.

* * *

People always have pasts and futures. Their family, friends, their old home, and then their goals, their ideals, their marriages, their plans.

Matt has neither. Never has, never will. He lives in the now. Sure, he grew up how he grew up, lived how he lived, loved how he loved, had the jobs he had, but it was all inconsequential once it passed by. He doesn't think about where he's going to be in ten years, either, he just doesn't think about that stuff, and he doesn't bother reflecting on the old stuff.

In fact, he'd almost forgotten about Mello, until his doorbell rang and he knew for sure certain that no one but the landlady would bother with his door- but she's out on vacation this week, and while the cops are also a viable option, Matt's just too careful for that.

It was one hundred percent going to be Mello, and he paused his game as he registered that fact, looking over towards the direction of his door, eyebrow raised, expression contemplative.

That guy, with his 'I barely give a two shits' attitude, and his dismissive speech, was at Matt's door. Probably for the previously offered help, of which Matt had not expected to be even possibly giving.

Mello was cocky, Matt had gathered that much. He knew what he was doing and he was going to do it alone, and the last time Matt had spoken to him, Mello's leave certainly attested to the 'do it alone' part of that method.

It certainly wasn't a bother, although uncomfortable to have someone in his home. It had taken a lot to suggest that they meet again, that day that he had dropped Mello off.

"It's open!" And Mello had of course been right; Matt didn't care for hospitality, he knew he was expected to, but he didn't care. The door creaked open, and Mello didn't have anything more than a neutral expression on his face as he walked in, door closed behind him, Matt gazing sideways from his place on the couch.

"I didn't expect I'd see you again." He mentioned, and Mello shrugged in return, placing his hand on the couch not a foot away from Matt's head. He held up a folder he had been holding when he stepped in the door, and quirked a lip.

"I don't know how you could possibly help, but I've got a case."

Matt smiled in return, patting the space next to him as he turned back to the screen, pressing play. "Tell me about it."

And Mello did, sitting down in his assigned seat, pulling out folders and sorting them for just a few seconds before he began to inform Matt of what was in the haps.

* * *

"So, we should check out if this guy has a paper trail, a private one, y'now, underground shit."

Mello gave Matt a look, one that Matt understood, and ignored completely. He wasn't about to tell a detective where he got his ideas from, Mello could assume games if he so desired.

Matt continued when Mello only stared at him. "You know what I mean, this guy was ghetto, so surely involved in some sorts of crime, his niece is a salesperson who has quite a bit of money that only came in after his death. The only reasonable explanation is that he dealt with drugs, say he screwed up, and got hit, then whoever he worked for is responsible."

"Yes, I already know that. I'm just wondering what you think you can do, besides repeat my thoughts."

Matt shrugged, clicking more buttons, faster, harder, before calming down, explosions fading into the digital distance. "Then why are you here?"

"Same reason you offered?"

"And...?"

Mello huffed, turning his head away, not wanting to respond, maybe not knowing how to respond. Matt smiled, shooting a skeleton.

"You're used to commanding a team."

"So?"

Matt shrugged again. He was a bit nervous, repeated gestures attested to that. He didn't like assuming things about people, even if he was sure of those assumptions.

"I'm just a gamer geek."

"Not a team."

"That would be the case."

Mello was looking at Matt again, inquisitive, papers in hand still, thinking, he stayed silent though, not speaking his thoughts. Matt was about to ask what he was thinking when the blond spoke up again.

"So, how do you think we find a paper trail, considering I don't have any access to my work office, and therefore a warrent?"

"I can ask a friend." That friend, is called Mail, and perhaps, Matt shouldn't have gotten himself into this. But he'd already done it, hadn't he? And there was no turning back now.

Mello glared, uncertain. "Should I just leave this all with you then?" He held up the papers, and Matt paused his game, taking them in hand as he gazed over the words for a moment. Dates, links, interviews, related case files... yeah.

"No, I'll copy it." He stood up without an explanation, walking down the dark painted hallway to his bedroom without any acknowledgment from Mello. They both knew it was illegal for Matt to copy those files, but neither particularly cared, or rather, they knew that they could keep it on the down low at this point.

Luckily, Mello stayed in the living room as Matt scanned the files, and didn't come to poke around his room. He could deal with it, if Mello did, he supposed. He wouldn't tell the full truth, but a small lie that Mello could settle for. But he didn't want Mello suspicious of him, either, having a cop onto Matt's life... gee. Would suck, for sure.

Mello may not give a shit though, or at the least would appear so.

"Okay, done, here ya go." Matt handed Mello the files, flopping back onto his place on the couch. And then he took the fib further, "I emailed my friend, but he'll be awhile, wanna play some games?" Mello paused at the explanation, seeming hesitant, before he nodded.

"Sure, why not."

* * *

Two days later, Mello and sat on Matt's couch, said redhead chatting idly as he downloaded a file, video game paused in front of them. The scene seemed to be what was going to become routine; Mello arriving to find Matt playing games, inviting himself in, sitting down, and Matt multitasking until he had something particularly trying to think about. This time though, he just wanted to chat about the case as they waited for the files to download, those files being the ones that Matt had hacked. He'd simply sent them to his non-work computer an hour before.

"How's work going for you then?" Matt had asked conversationally when they had first settled into silence, and the conversation had been idle but entertaining since then.

Now, Mello said "I graduated at seventeen, actually," in reply to one of Matt's statements, and Matt looked at him sideways.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one." Mello shrugged, "I didn't go through all of the usual steps to graduate, I'm not a genius or anything." He also supplied when Matt was giving him a vaguely impressed look, and Matt shook his head, eyes going back to the screen in his lap.

"Certainly takes something to get that far at your age, genius or not. I skipped out in grade seven."

"I forgot that people do that. Kinda an asshole move to yourself, in my opinion."

Matt gazed at Mello, discriminating, perhaps offended by the offhand comment. He himself didn't know. "I don't see it that way."

"Okay."

They paused, not knowing what to say; they couldn't exactly argue over their opinions. Not logically at least. Matt simply looked back at the screen, download almost all the way done. If only he could just use his utility computer...

Download complete.

Mello let out a breath as Matt clicked into the file.

"Now let's see what we've got." He had to pretend that he didn't know much about this stuff. "I don't know what I'm looking at here, you take over." He said after a second, and Mello complied, scrolling down all the way before going back to the top.

"So, definitely drugs, looks like your friend went through the effort of looking up suspects in the area, gang leaders that could be involved, and looked at their trails to see if they had contact with Gary. Came up with two, Leonardo Alveras, and one who only goes by Ken, Leo is connected by a camera feed where they exchange papers, and Ken has made several calls to Gary's location id in the past..."

Matt glanced at the screen, feigning curiosity. "So can we just find if these have a grudge an' case solved?" Matt knew it may not be so simple.

"It's possible, but more like we have to do some personal digging. I should try and get access to Gary and lady's old house, see what the neighborhood is like, who frequents the area, that would give me a better idea to confirm if he indeed has any action in a gang and how."

"...How?" Matt honestly didn't know how Mello expected to find anything from an abandoned house. Really. It was wiped clean after the 'suicide', and then put on the market.

"You never know." Mello dismissed Matt's question and continued scrolling, expression betraying nothing of interest. Mello opened up a wordpad when he reached the end of the file, and Matt knew what he was doing then.

"These are what I want you to try and get me, since you've got your free hacker, and he's good, great, actually. If he'll still help?"

Matt nodded, withholding from grinning at the accidental compliment to him, as Mello then began to type out some instructions.

* * *

Street area camera feeds from before the suicide.

Reports of all minor offenses from Gary and Lady, unlisted in official records.

All of Lady's contact information, hidden.

House repair information.

Drug action in street/s around Gary's old home

Search for any possible private messages online from suspects/ online sites associated.

* * *

At the door, Matt stopped Mello with a question.

"What made you choose this case? It's all kind of unlikely that there is anything to it until you look into it deeply..." Everything seems as is, and it's like Mello is grasping at loose strings. Sure, there is evidence that there is more to it, mainly lady's responses to this, but nothing incriminating. Nothing that stood out.

Mello paused, meeting Matt's eyes squarely, and Matt could have sworn he saw distance, apprehension in that expression, before it turned factual and stony.

"The bullet was homemade, with skill."

Matt took awhile to figure that one out. But he did; the bullet was homemade + Lady persisted to mention that they were innocent even with their ghetto lifestyle. It was simple, and a deduction that once noticed would lead to the discovery of more facts inside the case.

But the fact that Mello chose this wasn't all because of that, was it? Matt knew for what was almost a fact that Mello could have chosen any other case, something that was clearly unsolved, instead of deciding on this case which wasn't as noticeable of being incomplete. Why think about it so hard?

It related to Mello somehow, that's why, Matt just didn't know how.

* * *

For the first time in two weeks, they were out and about in the general eye of the public.

Matt was awkward, to say the least. He hoped that Mello wold put it to the gorgeousness of the Realtor showing them the house, instead of social anxiety. But hell, Mello had already figured that Matt was not used to other human beings. Maybe Mello had figured out why, too.

But that was no matter. Instead, the matter at hand was. That matter being... the house, and what Mello expected to possibly find here.

It had been cleaned, already gone over by police, forensics and investigators alike, and had been for sale for over a year. There had to have been nothing to find, and even the things that could be found, like worn floorboards or holes in the walls, they couldn't possibly mean anything at all that would be useful.

But Matt wasn't outwardly showing those thoughts- at least he imagined, as The Realtor unlocked the house for them. Only then, did Matt really tune into the conversation, because maybe Mello should be talking about something interesting at that point, and blocking out the world wouldn't be a great technique of listening.

"-1940's, as I'm sure you know, but the heating and electrical have only been replaced in 1970, so not exactly the greatest for a family. Two roommates like yourselves would probably find themselves at home here though, if I had to say a use. Unless you're not roommates..." the Realtor stopper her ignored(by Matt) prattling and turned to them with an awkward look, and Matt averted his gaze, cheeks blushing. Only... he caught Mello's expression at that. His heart skipped a beat, and not a good one.

He tried to act normal as Mello grabbed his hand, and Matt found quickly that the blond was only trying to make him feel even more awkward. The asshat. And he didn't care if that was Mello's trademarked insult. It's what Mello was.

Red cheeks and sweaty palms not withstanding.

Mello gave a smile as he wordlessly nodded, and the Realtor then nodded without much consideration, before she went back to talking about the house, then fitting the story to work for a family, being hypocritical in her selling speech.

Why couldn't they have just told her that they were roommates...?

Matt would have to hit Mello over the head later, earning a punch in the face or not, because Matt absolutely didn't enjoy having to play couple, and he doubted Mello could come up with a good excuse for the prank.

"You had to do that?" He hissed his thoughts quietly to the blond, and Mello only smirked, turning his head to Matt's ear, about to whisper something- only Matt put a hand to the blond's mouth and pushed him away before he could start.

He didn't need to take it, Mello could play if he wanted but he couldn't rightly... ugh.

Mello ignored Matt afterward though, where Matt half expected him to complain towards Matt's lack of playfulness.

He'd been in an energized mood since they'd headed out, and Matt didn't see the cause, watching as Mello began poking around in the cupboards, Realtor trailing off as she realized Mello was doing his own thing. She smiled at Matt, he smiled back, awkward, before following Mello down the hallway.

What a shitty situation. And they weren't even going to get anything... surely?

Mello was soon picking samples off the bathroom and kitchen ceilings, putting little pieces of plaster into bags as Matt stared on, Mello then moving to the closets and looking at the worn out wood. Collecting pieces of carpet, eying toilet seats and bathtub drains, looking in every heater vent, gazing at windows, He even scraped friggin' metal off the tin laying outside, asking Matt to distract the by then antsy Realtor as he did so.

They were there for three hours, Matt doing nothing but watching Mello's back and helping out here and there, Realtor eventually going to her car to wait for them, rather impatiently. Mello didn't even respond to anything Matt said, and Matt was confused.

Mello was a detective, it was his job, but this... this was unusual, even by Matt's Sherlock like standards. This wasn't like a tv show even, this was like a routine that Mello had learned, not the typical detective protocol, and the blond was doing it like it was normal.

Matt couldn't fathom what the blond found so interesting about the flies in lightbulbs, and at that, how it revolved around the case and their goal at all.

"Let's go." And just like that, without explanation Mello was walking out the door, Matt scrambling to get his shoes on as he followed Mello out into the snowy street, a gang glaring at them from across the street becoming apparent promptly.

Matt had noticed the lot of them before, and noted that Mello as well was curious. Matt knew very well that those suspicious faces could be involved, and didn't question it when Mello stopped at the curb to stare at them, probably considering whether to talk to them and possibly get ruffled up a little and mocked.

It was the ghetto, and Mello was dressed rather posh. Matt barely fit in, either.

Mello eventually just turned to Matt's Camaro and got in, Matt following and putting the key into the ignition.

* * *

"So... what was all that about?" He knew that Mello had to have had a reason for everything during that visit, and was just confused to as what, exactly. So he asked the question after a few minutes of driving.

Mello having been looking out the window thoughtfully until then, when he looked at Matt, satisfied smile on his face.

"It wasn't that odd of detective work." He supplied, and Matt shook his head in response.

"To you. I guess I can see the bathroom ceilings, but drug traces would surely be gone by now, even then. Everything else though... I simply don't get it."

Mello huffed, rolling down the window and leaning out of it a little, elbow touching the frozen door, probably.

"There are... things that tell me things, that I've learned to pinpoint."

Could he be more vague? Matt sent him a disdainful glance, that Mello actually noticed- with a huff of course.

"The house dealt drugs, half of the closet was used for storage, heavy enough to be guns, they processed tin, and wore muddy shoes inside. Didn't turn on the lights that often, probably conserving power for other 'things', and unlike what the police had found, there wasn't abuse involved in the family, at least that's not why there are holes in the walls."

Matt took a second to process that. He understood quite a bit, really. The worn wood, less worn on one side, carpet samples, plaster absorbs particles in moisture, like wood. Making drugs can create a fair bit of let off, and maybe even change the consistency of the ceiling, unlike steam. The dead bugs, if they are dusty or not could tell you whether lights were often on, and at the same time if the bulbs had been cleaned...

Okay. Mello was pretty good, apparently didn't like explaining himself, hence why Matt didn't ask any of his obvious questions, but that's pretty good from what Matt could sort out.

He asked his most prominent question though.

"And the holes in the walls, then? If they weren't from somebody punching...?"

Mello seemed for open to explaining that.

"That's the biggest thing, remember the interviews we went over?"

"Yeah, that one journalist said that Lady and Gary had been abused, telling stories of holes in the walls..."

"But seemingly not in the house-"

"Those holes aren't from punches, they were from a large amount of children messing around-"

"But none in the back room, where drugs and guns would have been stored, you see?"

Matt paused, Mello gazing at him now, holding up three fingers. Matt clued in then.

"The journalist would have found those holes to be abuse, like that story came from, but the house probably had more fun going on in it than is said. Lady is hesitant to speak of the homelife, when questioned about how much abuse they went through; so there is a chance that abuse is not an issue, meaning that Gary, a likely crime businessman would most certainly not be suicidal, not for those reasons at least."

Mello continued. "After media complication Lady had said the reasons to be from abuse, it confirms the gang activity, Lady hiding things, making stories; rather smartly I have to say. Why make stories for a dead man, Matt?"

"It's obvious." Matt smiled. "Because there's still action happening."

"And so, with the fact following that those gang members were glaring, and that the house contained children at one time, recently even, with our suspicions confirmed, what is our next move?"

Matt took a fairly long silence at that, and his answer came out a question, because, honestly, he was unsure then.

"We could snoop the local homeless streets and try to investigate Leonardo and Ken?"

Mello nodded. "If there were children in that house, food stains also telling me that, by the way, and the house was sold to the bank, the kids had to go somewhere. I'm willing to bet that there were quite a few kids living there recently and that when Gary died and Lady moved out, not mentioning them, they had to go to either the streets or ghetto homes. We can even consider that they had other homes."

"It even fit's lady's profile to have taken care of kids, even having had a few of her own, isn't it?"

"I'd thought of that too off the bat. She doesn't have a figure anymore, not like someone who wasn't a mother would have anyways."

"It's not farfetched at all to you, is it?" Matt said it with a laugh; indeed, while motivated and adrenalin working through his veins now, this all seemed a stretch. Just on the assumption that kids lived there and that a gang or two is involved?

Mello shook his head, going back to leaning out the window. "Not at all, Matt, not at all, because..."

"Huh?"

"Nothing."

Yeah, Mello was not only a twit, but he was emotionally involved. There was no doubt about it.

* * *

"What do you like better, vegetable, or beef?"

Matt held up the packets of noodles as he stood in the kitchen, and Mello looked over his shoulder with an indifferent expression. By now, Matt knew he wasn't indifferent.

"No chicken?"

"No chicken."

Mello huffed, turning back to the laptop that he was so focused on, and Matt went back into the kitchen, preparing the noodles anyway.

Matt only really had raman, and that had annoyed Mello enough the first time he'd spent a decent amount of time at the shabby old house, but the fact that Matt was out of chicken made Mello even more disappointed. Apparently. Matt had learned that the blond was a picky eater rather quickly.

He tended to only eat chocolate, if at all.

They didn't have much time for investigation with Mello and Matt working, so they spent the entire day together on Sundays, and most of Tuesday working, leaving Mello to usually end up using Matt's shower and eating his food.

Mello never told Matt where he lived, or had them meet at his house, so Matt figured one of three things; Mello either didn't trust Matt, unlikely to an extent, or Matt was either rich, or poor.

And Mello had nice clothes, so Matt guessed that Mello was rich... Not to mention his job description...

Probably didn't want to admit that he was well off, both because then Matt would pick on him about it, like they both knew he would, and because then Matt might bug him for food.

So distrust anyways.

Matt just didn't like to spend money on healthy food when he spends it on technology and games. Speaking of...

"Matt, fucking shut that off, I thought we were trying to get more information?" Matt frowned, exiting the game just from the start menu and leaning back on the couch, slurping at his bowl of noodles.

So comfortable to boss him around.

"There's not much more that I can do." Mello didn't know that Matt was a bit more experienced than he let on, and even without that, there still wasn't much for Matt to do, short of going to his bedroom and hacking into the CIA.

Said blond snorted, shaking his head.. "I suppose..." he leaned over to grab one of his samples, handing the little baggy to Matt.

"What?" Matt just stared, not putting down his noodles. He didn't want to investigate mud under a telescope... or whatever was in that bag.

"I found it in the closet were they likely kept drugs, try and figure out what it is." Mello was serious. Matt had no idea how he could possibly do that. He said so.

Mello sighed, setting it down instead of persisting, before leaning back from his laptop, head against the back of the couch as he stared at Matt's ceiling, decorated with anime stickers.

"Define 'no man's land',"

"Um. A place where no one is, or that no one owns. Like that house, except the bank does. Like the streets would be, if the city didn't own them, of course." Mello already knew, Matt doubted he even needed the reminder.

"And that's where criminals stay."

"Yes?"

Mello tilted his head to look at Matt. He looked tired, and he looked serious.

"No man's land, is not a thing anymore. A hundred years ago, it was, but not now." Matt just stared, and Mello sighed, closing his eyes. "Think about it."

"Seems depressing to think about." Matt muttered through a mouthful of noodles, and Mello shrugged. He was being casual, philosophical, clearly. Matt hadn't seen that in the blond yet, the last days had only been work.

"I'm missing something, something that someone else knows."

"So we question some people." Matt supplied, and Mello sighed, frustrated.

"But they won't speak! And with this fuckin' demotion..." He let out a breath, sucking it back in as he went back to his laptop. "I don't have enough grip to get it out of them. I'm not even getting anything out of this hacking shit. I have no reason to do it." He clicked out of the file as Matt stared on.

Mello was tired. Much too tired. Matt didn't really care, but Mello was being concerning.

"Mello." He looked at Matt again, and Matt tilted his head, eyes on his meal, not so much as flickering to the blond.

"I have a friend, he's a bitch, if you forgot, and he thinks that children are involved. Children speak." He bit his lip, and Mello laughed. Matt continued. "Also, don't forget, you've got my hacker friend, and he can get you anything you need." Despite Matt barely knowing Mello, he was committing to this.


End file.
